


Much, Much More

by helens78



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Canon Era, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, M/M, Porn, Telepathic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:23:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles would really like to try it from the bottom for a change.  Erik is more than happy to oblige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Much, Much More

**Author's Note:**

> This was an unfinished piece from so far back I can't even remember when I started it. When looking for something to complete, I grabbed for this one.
> 
> Is this bottom!Charles or not? He's getting fucked, but he is most definitely in charge. Feel free to weigh in with an opinion on that. What are _you_ looking for in bottom!Charles fic -- Charles getting fucked, Erik in charge, both, either? I pretty much like every variation on these guys. Here's one option, for those who like this sort of thing! :)
> 
> I am deeply amused that I've felt for months like writing porn is like pulling teeth, and then I go to finish a WIP and write my porniest ~2000 words in ages. Hopefully I still have the knack. *g*

When they've finished for the night, when Erik rolls over on his side and sleeps, when Charles can sweep a careful hand down his back and curve it over his arse just to feel Erik shift-- happy with discomfort-- against him...

Charles gets curious. Just a little.

It's not as though he's never _felt_ it. He rides the sensations in Erik's mind half the time. He knows what it does to Erik, being rolled onto his back or his stomach, having his thighs pressed against his chest or one leg carefully drawn up to give Charles better access.

Even if he weren't a telepath, he could tell how good it is just from the sounds Erik makes. The shudder of his body, broad and tense under Charles's hands; the welcoming gasp when Charles pushes slowly-- too slowly, sometimes-- inside.

It's good for Erik, Charles knows it's good for Erik, but Charles has never been interested in rolling over himself. He loves that gorgeous clench and glide, the hot friction of slamming into another man's body. He loves the way Erik tightens all around him, comes apart beneath him, _begs_ him. Erik's wrists under Charles's hands, Erik's long, strong back under Charles's chest, Erik's impossibly perfect arse curving back against him as Charles fills him over and over again...

Charles can't imagine wanting anything else, ever.

Except he can, actually, because he wants everything with Erik. He wants to know everything about Erik, in the flesh as well as in the mind. He wants to know the way the back of Erik's neck tastes, when Erik's used and shaking and half-maddened from sex. He wants to know how Erik's cock feels in his hand when Erik's so desperate that he's dripping with it, coating himself and Charles's palm with smears of pre-come. He wants Erik's shocked, broken groans when Charles lances into his mind and forces a second orgasm out of him; he wants Erik's hands, huge and elegant, gliding up and down his back while he drives into Erik so hard it makes Erik wince.

And sometimes he wants to know what it would be like, giving Erik everything, holding nothing back. No longer holding _this_ back. It's not something he'd give to just anyone, but for Erik... he wants to _know_.

*

Erik's making better headway with the mutant who controls water; maybe it's because Erik understands physical abilities better, or maybe Charles's telepathy made the other mutant nervous. Charles leaves Erik to it and does a bit of shopping, comes home on his own after.

Unlike Erik, Charles doesn't have years and years of practice at this. At a guess, there are a number of ways Charles could make it easier on himself, ranging from items they already pack into their shaving kits to the bare minimum of spit. But why not go all-out on it; why not take up a classic, sweet almond oil that smells delicious and feels even better when it's slicked down his cock and making his strokes smooth and gliding.

He indulges in a few long, lazy passes down the length of his cock before he gets down to business: one finger, circling gently around his hole, pressed carefully against the tight muscle there. His body clenches automatically when he pushes, but Charles is patient and Charles is _stubborn_ ; he is not giving up on this without getting at least one finger buried to the last knuckle.

He takes a deep breath, lets it out, and _pushes_ ; his finger slips just inside, all that heat surprising him. It shouldn't-- of course it shouldn't, Erik is always so hot for him, so delightfully hot, but this is _his_ body, _his_ arse, and it should hardly feel the same as Erik's.

And, of course, it doesn't. There are little differences, like how _tight_ Charles feels to himself; God, what he wouldn't give to bury himself in that much heat, in that faintly-nervous pressure.

The thought gets to him immediately, and he stretches himself with that one finger, pressing in over and over again, finally working up the nerve to open himself with two. The oil helps enough that he's not burning from this, but the stretch is anything but comfortable, and again, he's thinking of how it would feel to be in someone's head while their body struggled to get used to this, mind eager and impatient but body needing more time.

_Erik_ , he thinks, _Erik would let me..._ He could drive himself into Erik's mind as Erik drove himself into Charles's body; he could watch himself through Erik's eyes, feel the maddening rough squeeze as Erik opened him up and _fucked_ him for the first time. He could take that; Erik would give it to him.

His other hand comes to his cock again, and it's the _wrong_ hand, his right hand's first two fingers are deep inside his ass and he's not moving them _now_. He gives his cock several slippery awkward strokes anyway, and it's enough: he comes, groaning out loud, imagining Erik's cock inside him and his own thoughts in Erik's head.

*

"You want to what?" Erik asks, eyes wide. That's not a no, Charles knows him well enough to be sure it's not a no, but still: he's staring and not tackling Charles onto the bed. Charles extends his lower lip very slightly into a pout.

"I thought you'd like it," Charles says. "I thought _I'd_ like it. Don't you want me that way?"

He can feel a fast rush of emotion that tells him the answer's yes. Yes, of course Erik wants him that way; after all these months together, they've made love in countless positions, sucked and licked each other brainless, touched each other until they were both shaking with need.

And always, _always_ , Erik opens for him, invites him in, begs him if Charles isn't giving it to him fast enough or hard enough. They fell into each other like it was destiny, like they were two halves of a whole. There was never any question about who'd be doing what; Charles just rolled him over that first night and bit his shoulder while Erik gasped out _yes, God yes, I want you inside me, take me._

"Where is this coming from, all of a sudden?" Erik reaches out and runs his fingers through Charles's hair. "If it's something about wanting to be fair, I've no complaints in that regard."

"It's more than that," Charles says. "Curiosity. Interest. You like it so much..."

"I could open to you." Erik's thumb traces a circle at Charles's temple. "We could do it like that."

"We _have_ done it like that," Charles points out. "I want more than just your experience of it. I want my own." He turns his face into Erik's touch, rubs his temple against Erik's thumb instead of simply sitting there letting Erik do the reverse. "I _would_ like you to share it with me, though."

"I did figure." Erik raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure? What if I-- Charles, I wouldn't want to--"

"You would't want to hurt me?" Charles asks, grinning. "I have had my hands on you. And my mouth. I know what I'm getting myself into."

"What you're getting _me_ into," Erik corrects. "If it's what you want..."

"It is," Charles assures him. "Please, Erik. Do this for me?"

"All right." Erik exhales softly. "We'll need something..."

"I have something," Charles says quickly, pulling out the bedside drawer. "For just this purpose."

He hands the small bottle to Erik, who lifts an eyebrow at the broken metal seal. "You've been practicing?"

"I said I knew what I was getting myself into."

"You _have_ been wanting this for a while."

"Good of you to notice," Charles says archly, settling down on his back. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to open that up and get started, please."

Something in Erik's expression shifts when Charles says it; he relaxes a little, understanding lighting his features. "Is _that_ how this is going to work."

"Did you expect something else?"

"I shouldn't have, should I?"

"No, you really shouldnt have." Charles spreads his legs apart, draws his knees up. "Come on."

"Even like this, you're bossy," Erik teases, the cap twisting off the bottle as Erik climbs on top of him. He kisses Charles's mouth, though, and Charles curves his hand to the back of Erik's neck, opens Erik's mouth with his tongue. He licks in, slow at first and then more demanding, and Erik groans for him, groans even more when Charles slips his other hand between them and wraps his fingers around Erik's cock.

«You want this,» Charles sends, squeezing, making Erik gasp. «You want to know what it's like to be inside me, to feel me that way...»

«Of course I want it.» Erik draws back, coats two of his fingers with the oil. "You think I don't like it from the other side?"

Charles blinks at him. "You've never made much fuss over it. I thought you could take it or leave it."

"I thought you weren't much interested in rolling over."

Fair enough. Charles lifts an eyebrow, though, spreading his legs apart that much further. "I'm interested now. And I would have done, if you'd ever asked."

"And I would have, if you'd asked me. Which you did." Erik's fingers are at Charles's hole now, slick and gentle-- more gentle than Charles would ever have imagined from him. "So here we are."

"Here we are," Charles breathes out, and presses down against Erik's fingers. "Put your fingers in me, Erik. I want them there."

Erik holds his breath and pushes his fingers forward, and Charles groans, his head tilting back. He puts his fingers to his temple and feels out for Erik's mind, and there he is, concentrating, taking such care with Charles's body, making sure this feels good to Charles... and holding himself back, all his arousal and desire leashed. Charles squirms on Erik's fingers, his cock jerking. Erik _does_ want this. Him, like this. But he's been careful, all this time, and he's being careful now, holding back anything that could possibly hurt Charles.

To hell with that. Charles growls softly, low in his throat, and pushes down hard. Erik's fingers drive further inside him, and Charles pants for breath, impatient with his body, wanting to be ready _now_. «Come on,» he urges, his thoughts twisted into Erik's. «Come on. I don't want you holding back on me. I want everything you feel. I want you inside me.»

Erik's eyes go dark, his lips parting, and he moves his hand forward, his fingers scissoring inside Charles, opening him. It's not easy, even after all the practice Charles has done. It burns, a little, and he's glad that Erik keeps his fingernails neat and trimmed and short. But riding along Erik's thoughts, Charles can feel the excitement building up in him, the deep, brilliant sense of _want_ , and above all else, Charles wants to feel it from both sides when that desire gets fulfilled.

"That's it," Charles breathes. "That's it, darling-- work me open for you. I know what I need to take, so don't be shy, another finger, please--"

Erik groans. "You say _please_ as if you're not taking me apart with what you're saying--" But he draws back, leaving Charles's arse open and aching, and comes back with a third finger, all of them slippery and warm, the added width making Charles bite down hard on his lower lip. Erik stops, his fingers barely inside Charles at all. "Don't do that."

"What...?"

"Don't bite your lip. Open your mouth." Erik licks his lips and lets his mouth open, demonstrating. "It's easier."

Charles mimicks the motion, his tongue tracing a path around his lips, and Erik groans again, pressing his fingers forward, making Charles take them. Charles's head tilts back almost of its own accord, and he moans, too, long and low, his mouth open wide. It is easier, though whether that's because of Erik's advice or because arousal is streaking through him-- through _both_ of them-- Charles can't know.

He feels it from Erik's mind an instant before it happens, barely getting his head up in time to see: Erik bends forward, over Charles's body, his mouth opening wide to suck the head of Charles's cock in. Charles gasps, squirming toward Erik's mouth, and that twists Erik's fingers even deeper inside him, the warmth of Erik's mouth and the pressure of his fingers sending sparks of pleasure all the way up Charles's spine. He can feel Erik's pleasure, too: the excitement he feels from having Charles clenched around him so tightly, the anticipation, and the satisfaction of licking up those first few drops of Charles's pre-come and tasting his cock.

Charles braces himself on one arm and reaches down to tousle Erik's hair. «I adore how much you love this,» he sends. «I can't wait to read you while you're inside me.»

«Neither can I,» Erik sends in return. He moves his hand, and it's easier now, the stretch of his fingers giving way to a warm, slow glide. Charles cups the back of Erik's head in his hand and draws Erik's mouth forward, matching the rhythm of Erik's fingers... slow and steady, taken in while he's being taken... it's enough to make Charles wish Erik were even more agile than he is.

But even this fades, after a long stretch of letting himself enjoy it. The burn is nearly gone, and Charles suspects he isn't going to get more ready. He tugs lightly at Erik's hair and draws Erik's mouth off his cock.

"I'm ready," Charles breathes. "Go easy at first. I'll tell you when you can let yourself go."

"You should have me on a leash," Erik teases, glancing around and finding one of the hotel's washcloths, wiping his hand clean. "You could keep hold of it and unclip me when you're ready to give me my head."

"Don't even start with that," Charles says. He leans forward and grabs Erik by the arms, drags Erik down on top of him. "You know I'd never let you go."

Erik kisses him at that, and Charles can feel Erik's hunger-- both in the way he's kissing Charles, and the way his mind's nearly given way to instinct. Erik's so hard, desire burning through him, and it's all because Charles promised him this-- this one act, one more way to make love, one more thing to share between them. Maybe they'll be like this forever. Maybe a dozen years from now, they'll still be learning new ways to make love, new ways to set each other on fire and please each other.

Charles nips Erik's lower lip and draws his knees up, cradling Erik's hips between them. «Do it,» he insists. «I'm ready.»

He isn't, not really. There might not have been enough foreplay in the world to prepare him for this. But Erik's cock is huge and heavy and pushing in hot and deep inside him, and Charles strains for it, sweats with the effort, bears down while Erik works himself in, one steady inch at a time. He doesn't dare reach out for Erik's thoughts, not yet. He wants to feel this all himself, every last instant of it, every second, drawing Erik in deeper and deeper and clutching at him when Erik finally tips his head down and groans, his hips tight against Charles's arse.

«Don't move,» Charles sends, reaching up and pressing his fingers to Erik's temple. «Don't move, don't even breathe, I _want_ that, I want your memory of that, hold still and let me take it--»

And there it is, Erik's mind offering up the memory of those last few minutes, the way it felt to climb on top of Charles and kiss him, the thrill of knowing he was getting to be Charles's first. And then that thrill gave way to a deeper pleasure, the sweet drawn-out ache of having to hold himself steady, the satisfaction of opening Charles up for him and feeling all that heat surrounding him. He'd almost forgotten...

«Oh, love.» Charles strokes Erik's cheek. «It's been a long time for you...»

Erik gasps out a breath. «Yes. Charles, please... can I move...?»

«Not yet, I'm not finished with this yet.» Charles dives back into Erik's memory, greedy now, taking it all. Erik's need for him, _there_ , coiled up and very much imagined as being on a leash... something Charles may very well have to do, seeing the way it affects Erik in his thoughts and fantasies.

Somewhere within all that, there's a certain sense of tenderness. New and unfamiliar, held tightly within Erik, as if he's afraid of even having that feeling, let alone allowing Charles to see it-- but Charles is there, all the same, slipping into that sensation and letting it surround him, letting _Erik_ surround him, all that tenderness and protectiveness and-- 

«--love,» Erik finishes, eyes closed, holding Charles near. «I might as well say it. You were never going to let me keep secrets from you.»

«No.» Charles tips his head up and kisses Erik's throat. «I love you, too, Erik.» He takes a breath, thighs straining, as ready as he's going to get. «Now _fuck me._ »

Erik's eyes fly open, and he's moving before he even realizes it, his body responding before his mind has a chance to get involved. Charles braces himself, but he still lets out a harsh, openmouthed cry when Erik drives into him, full power behind it, Erik's slim muscles pushing him deep. It hurts, burns, but Charles has never felt so safe-- not when he's wrapped up in Erik's thoughts, in the core of his emotions, held tight and cherished and _loved_.

"Harder," Charles pants out, reaching up, tugging Erik's hair, digging his nails into Erik's shoulder. Erik gives what he's got, does what he's told, and the rough pounding makes Charles see stars, steals his breath, makes him cling to Erik tighter with every thrust.

He opens to Erik's surface thoughts, letting them stream across him. «So hot, so good, never thought I'd have this, wanted you so much, always want you, this is perfect, I love you, Charles, I do, I don't know how but I do--»

Charles gasps, twisting himself even further into Erik's mind. His body aches with every motion of Erik's hips, but his mind-- oh, he can feel the pleasure Erik's taking in this, he can make that pleasure his own. He grips the back of Erik's neck and rides that pleasure along with Erik, the two of them driven further and further _together_ , and when Erik finally throws his head back and gives Charles those last deep thrusts, Charles is crying out with him, his cock pulsing in time with Erik's, his body shaking the way Erik's does, until they're both finished and wrecked, clinging to each other and trading hot, breathless kisses.

Charles is the first to move, wincing and squirming beneath Erik; Erik moves away as carefully as he can, collapsing to Charles's side. Charles turns to face him, forehead pressed to Erik's, smiling so hard his cheeks ache.

Erik strokes his hand down Charles's back. "Did you enjoy that as much as you thought you would?"

Laughing, Charles bends forward and kisses him. "More," he murmurs. "Much, much more."

_-end-_


End file.
